Chapter 33

33

Felix gathered the fallen food and placed it back on the tray. The bread was stale, and Vega was sure the discoloration on the cheese wasn't from the grimy dungeon.

She grabbed the tray through the slit in the bars. "Should I be worried about poison?"

"I think that should be the least of your worries right now. Keep your strength up." He disappeared beyond her view, and Vega felt the sudden loneliness sink in as the silence took over.

Her eyes darted to the tray in her hands, and her stomach rumbled at the sight of the unappetizing selection. I would kill for some stinky, fresh fish right about now.

Vega gasped at the sting in her side as she sank down against the wall. Felix had done what he could for her broken ribs, but he'd been honest about his skillset. She scarfed down the dry bread and picked around the molded cheese. Her stomach growled when the food was gone, her body begging for more.

Would this be the rest of her life? Eating last week's discarded scraps on a cold floor with the fear of her next beating looming over her ?

A new canteen of water was untouched near the door to her cell. Vega crawled over to it and gave the liquid inside a sniff after twisting the cap off. There wasn't a scent, but she wouldn't be able to tell if something was wrong with it anyway—she didn't know how to sniff out poisons in this life.

Vega chugged every last drop in one go.

"Your issue is that you don't listen." Bridger's voice cut through the silence of the dungeon, along with the sound of muffled pleading. "So let me show you how."

Vega moved to press her face between the cold bars, her knees digging into the rough stone. Bridger came into view with Grimes dragging behind by the collar of his uniform. Her heart began to thunder with anticipation.

"Commander," Grimes pleaded, not as tough as he'd sounded the night before when he promised to kill Vega. "I lost control. It won't happen again."

"You're right. It won't." Bridger yanked the door to her cell open. She scuffled back as Bridger flung Grimes into the cell with her.

"Apologize," Bridger growled, the sound reverberating through Vega's chest.

"Why should I have to apologize to a prisoner? I said it won't happen again. Isn't that enough?" Grimes attempted to stand, but Bridger's boot dug into his shoulder, shoving him down until his chest was flush with the floor.

Bridger leaned down, his mouth hovering near Grimes's ear. He spoke loudly enough for both him and Vega to hear. "I suggest you do as I say. After all, that's the reason you're in this position in the first place… for not listening to your commander. There is no other option. It's apologize or die." The words rang as a promise.

Vega's eyes went wide, bouncing between Grimes, who had nearly taken her life twelve hours ago, and Bridger—he looked every bit as intimidating as one would expect the strongest warrior in history to look. His dark hair was ruffled out of place, a strand falling over his brow.

If Vega weren't terrified for Grimes's life, she might take more time to enjoy the features of Bridger's unfairly attractive face. This man almost killed you. You shouldn't care about his life, and you also shouldn't be admiring Commander Dickhead!

"I'm sorry." Grimes's apology wasn't sincere, the words forced.

"It's fine." Vega felt like she was hearing the words from outside of her body. She couldn't remember saying them herself.

"Actually, it's not. He doesn't mean it." Bridger's boot pressed harder into his back. Grimes gasped as the air began to leave his lungs. "Stand." Vega's gaze left Grimes, shooting up to Bridger. Her confusion was evident in the way her eyebrows scrunched together. "Stand, Vega." His voice softened, catching her off guard.

She did as she was told, swallowing a yelp from the throb in her side. "He apologized." Her voice still didn't feel like hers.

"And he's going to do it again." Bridger got down on his knees, removing his boot from Grimes's back long enough to switch his hold. His hand gripped the back of his neck, clutching tightly to hold Grimes in his place, his cheek against the floor. Grimes shook in fear as Bridger leaned in to speak through gritted teeth. "One more time… and this time you better mean it. I'm not giving you another chance to obey my orders."

Vega looked down from her position above them, Bridger on his knees and Grimes underneath his hold. When Grimes spoke again, Vega's eyes weren't fixed on him—they were glued to Bridger's stone-cold gaze. Why is he doing this?

"I'm sorry, Vega. Truly." Grimes's voice quaked, his breathing as ragged as hers had been the night before.

"When I get out of here, because I will get out of here, don't let me find you." Vega wasn't sure where the sudden boost in confidence came from, but it sparked something inside her. "I'll make you regret putting your hands on me." Vega's eyes were no longer on Bridger, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught his mouth twitch into his crooked smirk—the one Vega had seen in every memory he plagued.

"Up to your knees." Bridger stood, releasing his grip as his soldier followed directions. Grimes's eyes were on Bridger as he took in big breaths, allowing his lungs to refill with the stale dungeon air. "As the commander of Tolevarre's army…" He said the words and they didn't sound cocky—they sounded confident. "When I give you an order, you will listen. If I get a single complaint about you or your smug-ass attitude again, I'll butcher you in front of everyone."

Vega would never forget the sound of Bridger's boot cracking against Grimes's nose. She had only a split second to see his lopsided nose before he let out a bloodcurdling wail and a hand shot to his face. Blood gushed and overflowed into his palm.

Bridger wasn't done—he seemed to have a very specific way of forcing his men to fall in line when they disobeyed direct orders.

The dungeon walls shook with power as Bridger reached behind him and unsheathed his sparkling black sword. In a single motion, he twirled the long blade and sliced it through Grimes's arm at the wrist. If the soldier's scream pierced Vega's ears before, this time the sound that filled the room was his soul leaving his body.

Hysteria unraveled inside Vega, stealing any ounce of confidence she'd felt seconds earlier as images of the dead witch flashed into her head.

"I said I was sorry!" Grimes hysterically cried.

With grace, Bridger slid his sword back into its resting place after wiping the blood onto the leg of his uniform. "Great."

Vega tried to keep her eyes off the blood spewing from Grimes's nub—that meant she had to watch Bridger.

How was this man so calm after cutting someone's hand off? And why did he look like he enjoyed it?

"Felix." Back to the composed Bridger who Vega had come to know. It didn't matter if he was cutting someone's hand off or chasing down his soon-to-be prisoner in a world he didn't belong in—he never seemed to waver.

The other guard made quick work of getting to his side. "Yes?"

"Heal him." Bridger left the cell too casually, turning on his heels to look back at the mess he'd made.

"I can't regrow his hand," Felix stuttered from fear of disappointing his commander.

"Well aware. I want him to have a reminder every single day of what happens when people defy me. I want everyone to see what I did to him and ask themselves if it's worth crossing me."